


Truth of Legend

by Phantomheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Harry Potter, Game Stats, Gen, Hogwarts Secrets, Lily Evans Potter Bashing, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Reincarnated Hogwarts Founders, Relatable Petunia Dursley, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-04-25 20:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomheart/pseuds/Phantomheart
Summary: When Harry Potter dies on his death bed surrounded by the ones he loved, he dies a peaceful death -- one that he finds to have no regrets with. However, when he finds himself to open his eyes again to a white room he discovers that his life was but a tutorial in Death's little game of life, where Harry was player one, and his good ol' sociopathic friend Tom was player two. And there, death decides that his master should play a new save file of sorts, thrusting Harry into a new life, one with more background than his past life... and this time, Harry has a bit of help knowing how this game works, GUI and all.[You have gained 5+ Relationship Points with (TOM RIDDLE)]"I don't want this anymore..."





	1. Chapter 1

 

Imagine it, power swirls all around you, it grants you the abilities to create, morph and destroy. All of it is gathering up in the center of your soul — this power has responsibility that you must channel — it is called magic. If you had the power to create, would you create your own treasure? If you had the power to destroy, would you use it to protect only yourself? If you had the power of knowledge, would you keep it to yourself?And, if you had the power to love… would you smother them…? Would you only make them-the-being that holds your heart in their hands, become locked up in a cage to be only yours?

 

Once upon a time, lived a man who had everything he could desire, he held the world in his hands. Accompanied with three other mages the world turned all eyes onto the quartet as they held in their hands traits of true power; Ambition, Bravery, Loyalty, and Wisdom. Ambition strived for excellence and had strict beliefs and standards that were to be met in accordance of so. Bravery was a gallant man who wanted to protect the world and be a hero, he had no set standards except for one rule, “You must have great courage to be a hero, do not doubt anyone of their capabilities unless their wear their heart on their sleeve.” Loyalty was a patient woman who accepted all and had a heart of gold. Wisdom was a seldom lady, she had class and elegance with each step she took, her philosophy was that all power came from knowledge, to know the strength you must learn it. 

 

Of all the founders, each held to themselves a secret. Ambition hid himself a small angel, his love and heart was hidden away and kept safe in a golden cage that would be worn around his neck. Bravery held remorse and put up a strong front, as he had lost everything to become who he wanted to be, rejected and disowned was his past, love and freedom was his future, broaden in his sword was etched the name of his lover, his prince. Loyalty held her kindness due to loss, she was barren, she was loyal and caring to all around her because she desired closure but could never truly receive it, her pain immortal and her sorrows trapped in her treasures, all cursed, but one would have her pride, the one thing she cast away. Wisdom, she used to rule a kingdom, overcome by those who detested her and burned down her faith and hope, tied to a stake and cursed away from her own land, she locked away all of her feeling that would steer her away from her true path, her emotions and memories were cast away into the one thing that connected herself to the past, a shining shimmering crown.

 

Darkness gloomed in all of their hearts, and with that darkness were the light and truth that resided in their past sins and memoirs. Life was precious to them, it always would be. Only to the descendants of Salazar would it be seen as worthless. But by that time those relics of lost time would be broken, the treasures of past once destroyed were tossed aside. From those broken pieces came out memories. Memories of the past in a physical form - bodies.

 

And once broken...They are corrupted.

 

Antagonists in a new age, broken heroes of a tortured past.

 

The Truth of Legends is revealed, the truth of the founders is broadcasted, not only does history crumble… The mirror of their stories… is shattered. 

 

Death looked upon these little gems with a sharp gleam of mischief in his eyes, he was getting bored of watching the last play through of his little master playing around in his tutorial world, and now, he would drop his good fated friend from his demo, to the full version, where new scripts, adventures, and characters awaited him.


	2. Chapter 1 - Meeting Death (he's an a**hole)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets death.

 

**Ch.1 — Meeting Death**

  
  


_ “Play my game, and you will be the victor,” Death spoke with a smile etched across his pale skin — resembling royal bone as his white skin seemed to glow with an ethereal power under the moonlight — his slanted eyes filled with an onyx-like color of agony were full of mischief as he stared down at the little boy who stood before him. _

_ “It’s time for you to restart your game, little friend…” he said humorously, the words falling out of his mouth as if they were attacking their listener — like sharp daggers and knife, digging deep within their victim’s skin. _

_ “Fuck you,” Harry responded _ .

_ He fucking hated games. _

— 

If there was one thing that Harry hated ardently in  _ this _ world was that he was in this world. Harrison James Potter had many quarrels with life and the fate that he was “destined” to serve since he was hit by a curse that rebounded onto its insane killer because his mother was clever in runes, but if there was one thing he never wanted to do was to be Death’s bitch,  _ well _ , have Death be  _ his _ bitch. It was but an irrational thought, though he never thought it would one day be true. He let out a sigh as he thought to himself passive aggressively with a grunt, damn it all. Merlin might as well have been the name originally for a goldfish for all he cared, this situation was utter bollocks:

He, who had done no major wrong in life, except for his own existence, had grown accustomed to his fate of meeting death, even willing to embrace the deity with open arms. However, he did not suspect in the slightest that he would actually be met by death himself, and not in the halls of the white corridors of the train station where he first met the world of the dead, but a study filled with books and surrounded in men and women — dressed in black, looking dead, and saddened by the world they resided in — who he would figure out to be “reapers” and the man sitting at his desk with a dark yet friendly smile, Death. Harry couldn’t possibly thought that his story would end up like this, especially when he heard the ruffle of cloth as each man and each woman of the crowd began to bow before his feet. And it was then, that he looked at himself through a mirror behind the figure which he would forever regret seeing. It was him… but again as a child, black raven locks that were soft but messy, and his death defying eyes that held a dangerous tint to them like poison; Harry Potter was seven years old again as black cloaks shrouded him in whispers of sorrow, thanks, and servitude. But all went quiet when the man of all evils, goods, and choices smirked at him, and with a smile opened his mouth to speak words of utter nonsense to Harry.

“My dear friend, we finally meet at last… Harrison — my little master,” Death spoke fluidly with a turn of his lips as he gazed Harry down with his cold demeanor, the words flowing out him like a purr from a ca — one Harry wanted to kick to the curb anyway, unless it was part kneazle it twas to be  _ banished _ .

The man began to continues his spiel of words in front of him — gentle and homely, but at the same time predatorial and vicious — as if he were claiming Harry as his own:“I have been waiting too long for us to finally meet face to face, the last time I had you so close to me was when I plucked your lucky soul and was unable to grasp it,” yet again, their eyes met in a war of gazes, the dark awaiting colors devouring in the light that bloomed from Harry’s life. “Still, today I am unable to grasp your little life, Harrison…”

Death stared at Harry cheerily, his eyes glowing with a mischievous bout of power, and with a flick of his wrist called Harry towards him. Harry’s own eyes glued themselves onto the bastard that has somehow managed to shove his body near him as his body was suddenly pushed towards the man and into his embrace.

“It’s nice to finally be able to touch you, my dear Master, it’s nice to be finally spill the beans about your little tutorial world… Oh how fun it was for just a demo of the true adventure, my little Beta Player...” Death managed to whisper quietly into the depths of Harry’s mind, the confused male grabbing at the fabric of the cloak that flowed from Deaths shoulders attempting to strangle him — clenching at the black cloth as he began to shake in fear.

His thoughts ran faster than any broom in the sky as he swore his own life flashed before his eyes.

“What the hell is happening…? Who are you, truly?” he asked quietly, the words barely crawling out from behind his lips, shaking with fear as he read into every word that this nightmare before him spoke.

“I am Death, Harry Potter… Play my game, and you will be the victor,” Death spoke with a smile etched across his pale skin — resembling royal bone as his white skin seemed to glow with an ethereal power under the moonlight — his slanted eyes filled with an onyx-like color of agony were full of mischief as he stared down at the little boy who stood before him.

“It’s time for you to restart your game, little friend…” he said humorously, the words falling out of his mouth as if they were attacking their listener — like sharp daggers and knife, digging deep within their victim’s skin.

“Fuck you,” Harry responded.

He fucking hated games.

“I see that you show no fear towards me as Death, but as a person — are you scared of my power, Harry Potter?” Death smirked as his hands travelled through Harry’s dark black locks as his Avada Kedavra eyes stared darkly as he teased.

“I fear no god, Death, I only fear man — the ones who can breed more evil than end it.” Harry hissed as he pushed the man’s hands away from his body with a fevered blush, he didn’t appreciate the visage of someone touching his younger body in any way possible as appropriate.

Death couldn’t help but bust out a chuckle at his friend’s comment before allowing the boy to climb off his body to escape his loving clutches.

“You say you fear man, but you risked an entire lifetime to save them…” he murmured sweetly, leaning forward on his arms as he rose from his seat, black cloak billowing behind him as the room full of whispers turned silent. 

“You truly are the master of death, sweet child…” the words came out smoothly but to Harry he could only hear a chorus of cacophony, as if it were conducted by a pelican who just caught a fish in its large bill.

Standing up for himself and against the teasing of death, Harry commented on Death’s actions with a sweet yet vicious grin, one he had earned through years of auror training: “And I finally meet you death,  _ the chicken that squawks at dawn, _ ” and as that smile continued to drop, “Now what in Merlin’s beard do you need me for? This Master business is utter bollocks to me, and I demand an answer,” Harry spoke, his green eyes glowing in anger as he tugged his way out of Death’s arms, landing on the floor with a heavy grunt.

Death looked upon him warmly, “You are a player in a very special game, Harry Potter. I’m going to give you the gift of skill, the ability to become a god. You the Master of Death, my little lord will be infinitely powerful as you choose, your thoughts infinite and your abilities ceaseless. You, Harry Potter, are going to be someone great, greater than any Harry Potter you’ve been before. And your Player two will help you if you choose to let him play as well… Harry, it’s time for you to start a new save file. I will make you a god.”

Harry still glared, “Fuck you and fuck your bloody game.”

And then he blacked out.

—

  
  
  
  
   
  



End file.
